


The Mirror of the Soul

by oddegg



Category: Firefly, Star Trek (2009), The Sandman
Genre: Dark, Disturbing Themes, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-30
Updated: 2010-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-08 13:03:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/75912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddegg/pseuds/oddegg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the reboot kink meme. From a brief mention of 'eating eyeballs'. Make of that what you will.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mirror of the Soul

"How is he?"

Kirk hovered in the doorway of the CMO's private office, watching Bones as he slumped, grey faced in the chair. At his question the other man opened tired eyes and gave him a rictus grimace that might - in some horror story definition of the word - have passed for a smile. He didn't answer and instead, eyes zeroing in, gestured wordlessly for the bottle held in Jim's hand.

Kirk passed it over as he perched, thrumming with jittery, impotent, angry energy, on the edge of the desk. He winced as McCoy cracked the seal and poured a huge slug of the bourbon straight down his throat  
"That bad, huh? I don't understand, Bones! I thought he was doing ok after Miranda - I thought he was better!"

Bones closed his eyes again as if he was in pain and replied in a tired, sandpapery voice  
"Jim... The kid was taken by prisoner by a race of people who's god and culture revolved around causing pain and who've had fucking millennia to perfect their technique. It was four days before we could get him out - the poor little bastard was never going to be 'ok' again"

He shouldn't have been able to see Jim's wince but Bones seemed to sense it anyway and opened red-rimmed eyes to glare over at his friend   
"And don't you start beating yourself up about it again! We couldn't beam him out of that hell-hole because of the goddamn energy interference to the transporter and you landed in sick bay yourself from the fight rescuing him. You're not to blame; the whole damn thing was a cluster fuck - the only bit of luck we caught was that we got him out before they got to the mutilation part"

Kirk said grimly  
"Yeah? Well Pavel went and sorted that out for himself, didn't he?" he sighed and asked again "How is he?"

Bones took another swig of the whiskey before passing it over and ran a hand over his exhausted looking face. It rasped on stubble that had passed 'five o'clock shadow' by at least half a day  
"I - goddamn, I don't know. I got him stabilised at least"

"And... his eyes?"

McCoy's lips twisted  
"Gone completely. The optic nerve's still there and I got a colleague back on earth working in sensory organ replacement who might be able to come up with something to help him maybe. The damage around the sockets isn't too bad. Real neat job in fact"

"I know he was still conscious when we got him here - did he say _anything_ about why he did it?"

"He claims he didn't"

"What?!" Jim gaped at Bones incredulously "The guy ripped his own fucking eyes out for god's sake! Hikiru found him with the knife still by his hand! How the hell can he say he didn't do it?!"

Bones gave him that humourless excuse for a smile again  
"He says it wasn't him. He says that the Reavers' god followed him back from Miranda. He says that the Corinthian ate his eyes"

Kirk stared at him and said with sharp, enraged precision  
"His _eyes_ went down his rooms' fucking disposal unit. We found a swear of blood on the lip of it"

Bones sighed and rubbed his face again before he ground out roughly  
"I _know_ that - I'm not saying I believe him! The kid's babbling about goddamn death gods stalking the halls of the Enterprise with who've got fucking mouths instead of eyes, fer Christ's sake!" he looked up at Kirk with despair "God, Jim! He's so messed up in the head and I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist. I… I really don't know what to do"

Kirk gazed back sadly, equal frustrated helplessness in his eyes  
"There's not much we can do, Bones, expect patch Chekov up and wait till we can get him back to Earth and some help. And hope like hell nothing else happens to set him off in the meantime"

* * *

In his drugged sleep, Pavel Chekov scrunched up his face fearfully and a low moan of pain escaped him.

And in his dreams, the Corinthian spoke, and moved, and _hunted_ in the darkness that spread from him to cover the ship

**"Ohhh, my boy, my boy… you are a delicious one! Such a prize in yourself and such riches that you have led me to!"**

_he can feel them, there lost and unknowing in the darkness; all his shipmates, all the crew, all his friends. going about their duties like normal when reality is cracking under their feet and nameless, shapeless, heartless things are creeping up on them, to catch them and hurt them and make them bleed. _

and he cannot see them. is as blind as them in the dark. cannot see, cannot move, cannot speak to warn them of their danger.

**"My lovely Pavel. You screamed for me so beautifully. Screamed so raw when your soft flesh was violated that I knew I had to follow you when you left. And oh, but I have been rewarded for my faith in you - seeing the world through your dazzling, clear eyes.  
You are so innocent Pavel! Like a child, better than a babe in arms. And I should know - I have had the eyes of children and babies, the Reavers gave them to me. Babies are innocent in their ruthless tyranny. They know nothing else. But you Pavel, a man-child such as you, taking his first, faltering, toddling steps into the world of adults, so naive with your vast, untried sophistication, like an infant playing dress-up with the clothes of its elders. Ahhh... you are such a delicacy, you don't even know how seductive you are!"**

_and now a form, a face out of the darkness. a figure doing practice drills with a sword in an empty exercise room, eyes red but dry now, empty and dry and full of grief. his face is stony, the skin pulled tight against the bones as though misery has shrunk it._

Hikaru.

and now he struggles, thrashes against the constricting dark, tries to shout, to warn his friend but there is nothing, no sound, no speech, no movement, nowhere he can go, can escape.

the Corinthian murmurs, the voice of a dark, vicious lover in his head

**"Oh, my child... what these eyes of yours will see..."**

_and Chekov begins to silently scream._


End file.
